


Adrenaline Crash

by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)



Series: Keep it Real, Trust Your Dreams (and Soon You'll Stand Here Next to Me) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, accidentally walking in on your CO sleeping on top of your XO, did this instead of my last asssignment for the semester lmao, post Second Battle of Borelias, reference to both death stars, ryshcate, suspiscions your commanding officers make out in their free time but you have no proof, to be fair they haven't actually left the party yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F117_Nighthawk/pseuds/F-117%20Nighthawk
Summary: As the Rogue Squadron party after the Second Battle of Borealis winds down, Corran runs across something he isn't quite expecting.the other side ofThe Second-Best Couch
Relationships: Corran Horn & Mirax Terrik, Wedge Antilles & Mirax Terrik, Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu
Series: Keep it Real, Trust Your Dreams (and Soon You'll Stand Here Next to Me) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719898
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Adrenaline Crash

**Author's Note:**

> don't stop me now 'cause I'm having a good time having a good time  
> (still reading X-wing books, still avoiding work by writing gay x-wing jockeys. I was gonna write WTPD-style X-wing jockeys but I finished Rogue Squadron and, well...)

_ “Horn, if you aren’t dead, you will be.” _ _  
_ _ “Happy to see you too, Commander. Welcome home.” _

Corran found himself wandering the rec room as the party finally wound down. He’d heard a few stories of what the elder Rogues could get up to, and the newest batch certainly seemed to live up to the fame. The rec room wasn’t exactly  _ destroyed, _ but it would definitely need a thorough cleaning. He desperately hoped that alcohol was the only thing staining the floor. 

Given the party was somewhat in his honor, and the other main guest of honor had already left the planet, bound for his ailing uncle, Corran felt a certain sense of obligation to be the last one to leave. The base support staff hadn’t stayed for long, just to give their congratulations on a job well done, and the Rogues were slowly trickling out. He waved goodbye to Nawara and Rhysati as they left arm-in-arm. If his mental count was correct, that left only two people that he hadn’t seen leave: Commander Antilles and Captain Celchu. It was possible the two had slipped out without him noticing sometime after the Commander had raised a toast, but he didn’t think that was the truth. 

He wandered around a corner into the small offshoot of the rec room the base usually used for movie nights, full of half-comfy couches and a random assortment of chairs that could be anything from salvaged ejection seats to a stack of pillows on any given day. He was greeted with the expected dingy couches and not-quite-regulation pillows.

What he  _ didn’t _ expect was to find Commander Antilles fast asleep and leaning against Captain Celchu, who had one hand gently carding through the Commander’s hair. He blinked at them for a moment, trying to process. The two were clearly close friends, given how weirdly protective the Commander got when questioned about his XO, and friends could easily just fall asleep against each other, but something was telling him this wasn’t exclusively a friendship thing.

Corran finally noticed that the Captain was directing a raised eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” he muttered, not wanting to incur the wrath of either if he woke the Commander up. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep.”

Celchu smiled softly down at Antilles and Corran was absolutely convinced that there was something else up now. No one looked that  _ soft  _ at one of the Alliance’s fiercest pilots without some sort of assurance that they wouldn’t get a laser blast through the head in the morning. “He’s had a long day.” Looking back up at Corran, Celchu continued: “He almost lost another pilot. Would have, if it hadn’t been for Mirax. You have to know how hard that hits him.”

Corran thought back to his feelings when Emtrey had told him about Gil’s death, about Lujayne and Peshk and Andoorni. “It hits all of us, Sir, but I would be lying if I said he seemed the worst off.”

“He hides it well. He has to; he’s your Commander. If he falls apart, it gives all of you permission to fall apart at a potentially crucial moment. But he’s learned how to hide it from far worse things.”

“The only pilot to have two Death Stars on his flanks, and that’s counting Skywalker.”

Celchu nodded, eyes back on the sleeping man half on top of him. “There’s a reason I told you my condition for letting you send that message was you mention the moon. I knew he’d catch on. If you hadn’t… I think I’m one of four people that’s ever seen the aftermath of that.”

Corran tried to envision Commander Antilles, one of the Alliance’s most decorated heroes, the man with two Death Stars on his ship, breaking down at night over a half-written condolence letter. It seemed almost like an oxymoron; impossible. Yet, if anyone would know, it would be the man with the Death Star Endor patch on his flight suit, the only person Corran had ever seen the Commander comfortable enough to sleep around. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to do my best to make sure I’m not the one giving him a long day ever again.”

Celchu gave him a wry smile. “Lieutenant Horn, I get the feeling you’ll be causing him almost as long days as Wes does. Speaking of, he’s definitely going to get you back for the stunt with the call.”

Corran blinked. “Sorry?”

“I heard talk of sticking you with Emtrey to put your CorSec skills to good use, but that’s a little much even for someone Wes trained.”

“Wes trained?”

Celchu’s smile widened into something wicked. “No one who is friends with Wes Janson is above getting back at a prank,  _ especially _ if they happen to be the prankster’s commander. Good luck, Lieutenant.”

Corran took that as his cue to leave, any offering of helping get the Commander to bed forgotten with the Captain’s parting words. He almost ran into Mirax who was on her way back into the room. She had the last of the ryshcate in her hands and looked very surprised to see him. He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Ah…. I was gonna give Wedge the last of the ryshcate. I told him a few weeks ago that I’d make him one now that Tycho’s back, but haven’t gotten the chance. Figured this would tide him over until I could give him the whole shebang.”

_ Now that Tycho’s back?  _ He ignored that for the moment to focus on the other part of her statement: “The whole shebang?”

She grinned. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have a case of Alderaanian whiskey hidden away. It was supposed to be part of--oh, uh, I actually think Wedge told me not to tell anyone that.” Mirax paused for a moment, obviously trying to puzzle out saying something without giving whatever it was away. Corran forced his CorSec instincts to the back of his mind. She may have been a smuggler, but Antilles was a respectable pilot in the Alliance military; if he’d told her something in confidence he could be content to leave it in confidence. “Anyway, I told him that now that Tycho’s back I’d make them a ryshcate with it.”

He really wanted to know what they had to celebrate, why people familiar with the squadron leaders kept saying things along the lines of “now that Tycho’s back,” but he was finally starting to feel the adrenaline crash that had so effortlessly claimed their leader. “Ah, well, the Commander’s asleep, unless the Captain woke him up, but somehow I don’t think he will.”

Mirax’s eyes had a knowing look. “I see. I suppose I should help Tycho lug him to bed, then. Here, you can have the last few slices.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll just give me more motivation to get the two idiots the special ryshcate.”

“Well, if you insist, milady.”

“Go to bed, Corran, I’m not dragging you  _ and  _ ol’ Veggie.”

He choked on air.  _ “Veggie?” _

She shrugged, already halfway to the half-room with the couches. “Better than calling him Wedgie.”

That, he supposed, was a good point.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized this is my 69th work and I missed the fucking opportunity. Oh well.


End file.
